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Just in time for Valentine's Day,
the Guardian in London has
reviewed and raved about
The Secret Language of Sleep.
And, for the rest of the week,
you can buy it for $5!
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Sestina (Derailed).BY ROBERT C. MOONEY
was near death, and those children farmed out to close friends. The marks on her throat made them shudder to think of the wire pulling taut, Patty gasping for air, and poor Walter mere minutes from home. Pat, are you there? Pick up. I'll be home in an hour, Walter said. Then he whispered, I'm sorry, and rolled down the window for air. He pulled into the driveway, got out, shook his head, shook his keys, touched the wire in his pocket, cleared the lump in his throat. She screamed, surely she screamed as her throat was crushed behind locked doors, safely at home. Walter fell on the steps. Cut his hand, he said. Bruised his face, he said. Whispered his thanks that the children were out. He was shaking and gasping for air. Then a medic yelled, Bring me an air tank! and pushed a tube down Pat's throat. She's alive! he yelled. Walter passed out. Check his pockets for keys so the home can be locked. Where am I? he whispered. Why is that policeman so close at hand? Protection. Now give me your hand, said the nurse, and she scrubbed and the air filled with screams. She bent down and whispered, If you think this is bad, your wife's throat was collapsed. She will never go home. In a coma. She'll never get out. In a courtroom a medic spelled out how the wire ended up in his hand. Searching for keys to lock up the home, 'cause we'd done all we could with the air, in his pocket was blood from her throat and the wire. I'm fucked, Walter whispered. Close to passed out, Walter gasped for air as contraband wire encircled his throat. Your ass is my home, the man whispered.
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